Queen of Hell
by alae-megallen
Summary: Castiel/OC one-shot series. She could have the future she always wanted, if only she said 'yes'.
1. Saving You

_Her eyes were closed but still she felt the warmth of the sun against her face, smelt the sweet scent of mead and morning dew, heard the whispering of the wind in the trees and the familiar sound of birdsong. She wiggled her toes against the fresh, crisp sheets and sighed happily, content in that one moment. Content to be joyful and unburdened, to forget the pain and hardship._

_She slowly opened her eyes, blinking several times until the wooden cottage came into focus, the swaying trees casting ethereal shadows across the floor as dappled sunlight twisted into intricate patterns. She smiled softly, gazing out upon the forest and the meadow, watching as a small wren flittered from branch to branch, in search of food._

_She felt the familiar sensation of strong arms surrounding her, felt the tickle of his breath and stubble against her neck and heard his voice as clear as church bells, "Good morning."_

_She couldn't help the elated chuckle that escaped her lips before she turned in his arms, watching his mystifying blue orbs trail across every mark and line on her face and yet she felt wholly beautiful. Complete._

_"I think it's well and truly afternoon." She responded with a smile and he smiled back, that cheeky half smirk that made him look younger than all his years spent in heaven._

_He leant forward and captured her mouth softly, as if treasuring each sensation, each moment as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And then he released a gruff laugh and touched her face softly, "We were up rather late last night."_

_She grinned softly and licked her lips, "And whose fault was that, hm?"_

_"I didn't see you complaining." He smirked and kissed her again and they became lost in one another for long moments, wrapped in this peace, this safety. When they finally came back to reality, he was gazing down at her lovingly, running his fingers through her hair, tracing the lines of her lips and her jaw before he whispered huskily, "Marry me."_

_She sat up slightly, propping herself on her elbows as he hovered above her. She raised her eyebrow and asked, "Can you do that?"_

_He shrugged and smiled, "I'm human now. And I want nothing more than to spend the days I have left with you."_

"And they lived happily ever after...So, you see, you and the Angel could have a future, grow old together." Crowley explained, his hands flourishing in that infuriatingly cocky way and she glared, "How can I possibly trust you?"

Crowley shrugged, "Got nothing else left to lose, sweetheart. And if I'm not mistaken, neither do you."

She tensed her jaw and steeled her features but she knew Crowley saw right through her the moment the vision ended. He would have seen the hopeless tears in her eyes and known she believed everything. It was hard to deny something that felt so tangible and yet so out of reach. But she had one choice.

"Serve one year as the king of the pit and I'll set your fallen angel free." It was a simple request and yet it held such profound meaning. If she refused, she would live a hell on Earth, without Castiel, without a reason to live. And if she said yes, gave in to the King of Hell, took his place in the fiery underbelly of the Universe, she would become like him. Cold, calculating and bitterly witty.

And yet how could she possibly say no? Knowing Castiel was suffering in the throws of fire and torture and she was left unscathed, unpunished. An Angel trapped in hell, trapped with all the evil he had smite so mercilessly. It was better that she took his place. She turned her eyes upward, meeting Crowley's expectant dark orbs, "You bring Cas back and I'll serve as King of Hell for one year."

He smirked and that cold, soulless lift of his lips sealed her fate. Crowley beckoned her with his finger and she hesitantly stepped toward him before he gripped the back of her hair and tugged her into a searing kiss. When he pulled away, he was smiling again, "Just like strawberries, sweetheart."

Crowley clicked his fingers and a confused, tattered Castiel appeared in the confines of the shabby warehouse, his face gruff with stubble and his hair sticking up in a million directions. But when he met her eyes, his face softened and he barely registered the demon in his midst before Castiel was gripping her shoulders tightly, as if she were an anchor tethering him to the Earth, securing him to reality.

He touched her face softly and she saw the tears in his ocean blue eyes. Her lip trembled and she managed to choke out, "I'm sorry, Cas. There was no other way."

His expression faltered and then his eyes darted between her and Crowley in alarm before he growled, "What did you do?"

She brushed the tears from her eyes, "I'm taking your place."

Castiel shook her slightly, his desperate sobs breaking the silence, "No! You can't. You _can't_."

Crowley cleared his throat, "While I'd love to stay and watch this truly touching scene unfold, we have places to be, my Queen of Hell."

She couldn't fight the hard glare she shot him but she accepted nonetheless with a stiff, committed nod. She closed her eyes, willed herself to remember the feel of Castiel's hands against her face, the connection they had shared amidst all the turmoil and pain.

"I love you." She breathed and kissed him briefly, feeling tears tracking lines down her cheeks before she pulled away and went to stand beside Crowley. And with his words swimming in her mind, she descended to the depths of Hell.

_"You let him rot down there, he won't be the same. Not really, not entirely. He will never be the Castiel you knew, not again. That part of him will be lost forever. And you will never have this future. There will be pain and loss and loneliness. But not if you take his place. All you have to do is say yes."_


	2. Damned

_One year later_

The room was dim, a meager slither of light peeking through the drab, patterned curtains as the Winchester brothers slumbered fitfully in the shabby hotel room. The room was soundless except for the dull echo of the clock on the wall and the rumble of a car passing in the night. A tall lamp flicked on, the sudden glow disorientating the two boys who shifted and squinted against the harsh light.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled incoherently before his eyes focused on the figure in the room and he swiftly pulled the demon blade from beneath his pillow. Sam stood up stiffly, his hand poised on the pistol in his grip, his eyes hard but knowing the salt round would do little to harm the King of Hell.

Crowley smirked in amusement, "Hello boys."

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" Sam wondered out loud and the King shrugged and scratched his chin, "Hmm, guess you don't want your friend back as badly as I thought."

Sam and Dean eyed each other warily before turning back to the demon encroaching on the small space. Crowley eyed the dingy room with repulsion, "Where's that sorry excuse for an angel? I'd assume he'd want to be here for this."

As if on cue, Castiel appeared with the flutter of wings, his eyes hard and his stance rigid. He eyed Crowley levelly, "Where is she?"

He only smiled and raised his eyebrow, "Don't get your panties in a twist, angel wings."

"Damnit, Crowley!" Castiel erupted, his tone dangerous and enough to even startle the King of Hell, just slightly.

Crowley rolled his eyes, "You Angels are always so impatient."

He clicked his fingers with a dark smirk and she appeared out of thin air, her hands drawn up to her face as if protecting herself from viscous blows, her body covered in grime and her dark waves matted haphazardly to her head.

As if suddenly realising the light from the small room was not fire licking at her skin, she hesitantly lowered her arms and gazed about her warily, her eyes dull and lacking spark. When she finally met Castiel's blue orbs, she blinked furiously, as if unbelieving he could possibly be here with her before she managed to choke out, "Cas?"

He reached out to touch her and she threw herself forward, gripping onto him like a life line as she let out ragged, stunned breaths, her eyes alight with shock and confusion. Castiel clung to her tightly, his hands tangling in her matted locks as he tried to comfort the hell in her mind.

She shook wildly and wrapped her fingers around the soft hairs at the back of Castiel's neck, "You're here. You're finally here."

She continued to mumble incoherently, short ramblings of fire and pain, of loss and loneliness. Of shapes in the dark, of bloody skies and acid rain. And that was when Castiel knew for certain, knew the light in her amber irises had all but faded, sputtering like flames caught in the eye of a storm. Knew her soul was tainted with torture and pain and he was hopeless, unable to ease her suffering.

Castiel knew then, in his heart, that Lyra would never be the same.

_Fire and ice,_

_Splinters in time,_

_Let's drown in the beat of the heart,  
Let's drown in the ache of the Earth,_

_Let's sink to the endless fire,_

Til it becomes desire.

Lyra slumped wearily against the bonnet of the Impala, rubbing her wrists out of habit, as if she'd still find herself shackled to the fires of hell, hear the screams erupting around her, feel the blood boiling in her veins. Her heart was racing wildly and she closed her eyes and stilled her breathing before releasing it slowly, trying to find some semblance of calm.  
They were parked in a small clearing with trees lining the narrow winding road, sickly moonlight casting eerie shadows across the red dirt beneath her shoes. Lyra knew why Dean had brought her here, why he hadn't spoken a word to her the entire twenty minute ride from the motel to this random spot on the side of the road. But somehow Lyra was still not ready to face what lay ahead.

She scuffed her shoes in the gravel and peered up into the vast abyss above, its surface rippled with the twinkling of stars and the eerie bulge of the waxing moon. Lyra looked up when Dean handed her a small silver flask and she met his emerald eyes as she took a few steady gulps of the cheap whiskey before returning it to him with a small thankful smile.

They stood there for several moments, neither moving or speaking, both content to listen to the sounds of night and watch the shadows stretch as the buzz of the liquor numbed their senses. Finally, Dean shifted against the bonnet of the Impala and cleared his throat, "How long did you last?"

Lyra was silent for several moments because she answered meekly, "78 years."

Dean nodded slowly, considering. She knew he had only lasted 30 years but somehow, knowing she would be stuck down there for 120 years in Hell made her will stronger, made her steady her resolve until she could take no more.  
Lyra could recall the moment she gave in, the moment the pain tore her soul to shreds. She had tried with everything she had to fight against it, to continue on just one more day, one more week. That it would somehow get easier. And yet it never did and she crumbled beneath the agony and took to torturing those poor souls, knowing she had been one of them. Knowing she could never go back.

Lyra sighed deeply, "I can still hear them, all of them. Every time I close my eyes, it's like I'm back in the pit."

Dean turned and met her eyes, seeing the same haunted defeated in her face, the slump of her shoulders and the way she twitched nervously, as if each sound reminded her of a cracking whip or a helpless wail.

Dean nodded and swallowed hard, "I know, Lyra. And I'm not gonna lie to you, you'll never get over this. You can't come back and pretend you didn't see what you saw or do what you did. But you can bury it in the furthest corner of your mind and move on."

Lyra licked her lips nervously and dipped her head, wringing her hands together with that same nervous twitch, "How do you go on, knowing what you know?"

"Kill as many evil sons of bitches as I can." Dean responded without pause and Lyra met his eyes again, "Does it help?"

Dean hesitated and darted his eyes away, his voice almost lost to the night, "A little."


End file.
